


Days That Never Were/Days that Should Have Been

by femmenoire



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenoire/pseuds/femmenoire
Summary: Jack and Ana Lucia. In this world and the next.





	1. Days That Never Were

He didn’t know why he was thinking of her. It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t even a full-fledged thought at first.

It was just an image: sweat rolling down the back of her knees, her skin shining in the sun.

Everything went quiet. He closed his eyes to see it better, those beads of sweat running down her calf.

He tried to remember the color of her skin, the way that piece of hair was always falling over her face, no matter how many times she tried to fix it.

Eventually he could see it, her eyes closed while she laid in the grass, resting for just a few minutes, trying to forget everything else, this island, all the death, them. Him.

She opened her eyes and caught him staring.

“You a stalker back home, Doc,” she said in that voice that always made his spine tingle. And then she smiled. Maybe not at him.

***

It wasn’t dark yet.

Everyone got tense and jittery as soon as the sun set.

Each night could be your last, or at least the last of  the little bit of sanity you’d been able to hold on to.

But these moments just before dusk were different.

They were just down the stream from everyone else. She wanted some privacy, and he just wanted to be near her.

She peeled off her clothes slowly. It wasn’t meant to be sexy, every inch of their bodies were covered in sweat. But still, he felt himself harden immediately with every new inch of skin she uncovered.

She pulled her panties down her legs and he averted his eyes just enough to stem an unwanted wave of guilt.

She looked over her shoulder at him, that cocky grin on her lips, and then walked carefully into the water.

He wanted her to invite him in. She didn’t. And he was too damn… well she would call it repressed, to ask or just go in after her.

So he sat on the bank and watched her wade in the water.

She looked happy, free. He tried to burn the sight into his memory. 

At the moment, remembering her seemed like the most imporant thing he could ever do.

***

She didn’t sleep.

Maybe three or so hours a night. He tried to tell her that she was going to burn out. That she wouldn’t be any good to anyone if she didn’t let herself rest.

“And who do you think is going to protect you while I’m sleeping? Bernard,” she’d yelled at him.

“What,” Bernard yelled from across the camp where he was putting out their fire.

“Nothing,” she said, over her shoulder. “Let’s get moving.”

She stayed just ahead of the entire group today. Just out of his reach.

Every time he got close, she yelled to Eko that she was going to scout ahead. “Alone,” she whispered in a hard tone just loud enough for him to hear.

When they finally camped for the night, he claimed the space next to her as usual, damn what she thought.

“You can’t take a hint, Doc?”

He took a deep breath to steel his temper. “I can take a hint about as well as you take advice.”

Her mouth set in that hard line that was a clear warning sign if he’d ever seen one. “Sleep somewhere else tonight.”

“Why don’t you just sleep tonight and I-”

“This isn’t a game Doc.”

“I know that. Do you?”

“What’s going on,” Bernard said, his voice shaky.

“Stay out of this,” she said.

“What’s going on is Ana Lucia is going to keel over from exhaustion if she doesn’t get some sleep soon.”

“Mind your own business.”

“I’m a doctor and you are my business,” he said, realizing how weak it sounded as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“I don’t need your speeches.”

“No, but you do need my help.”

She laughed, but it was dry and humorless. “What the hell do I need your help for?”

“I can either be here to help you when you fall over, so tired you can’t sleep, your body so sore you can’t move and your brain so burnt out you can’t think straight. Or you can take a damn nap for a few hours.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

“Give me the gun Ana Lucia.”

She laughed again, the sounds so full of bitterness and pain it broke his heart. “You must think I’m crazy.”

No, I don’t think you’re crazy,” he said seriously. “But if you don’t sleep soon, you will be.”

***

When she woke up she refused to look him in the eyes.

But he was okay with that. He could tell that the short nap, which turned into eight hours,  had done a world of good. So he didn’t press her.

“Can I walk by you today,” he said sheepishly, shaking his head at the desperation clear in his voice.

She smiled and laughed, this time full of actual humor and maybe even just a little bit of happiness. She looked up at him, her eyes squinting at the sun, “Sure you can Doc. I don’t have any treats for you though.”

He smiled. “Fine, make fun of me, whatever. As long as you’re ok, I’m ok.”

***

He was dying.

He could feel it.

This was his time.

Vincent’s heavy breaths were a rhythmic lulling and Jack let his body relax.

He wouldn’t fight what was coming.

He couldn’t.

He didn’t want to.

When he closed his eyes, he saw her.


	2. Days That Should Have Been

A psychotic patient throwing things around the emergency room is not an unexpected occurrence. Jack’s used to it, used to patching up the aftermath on occasion.

But every now and then he got caught up in the chaos. Today was one of those days. And, unfortunately his reflexes were far too slow, because that bedpan hit him square in the forehead.

When he came to, the bright lights made him shut his eyes again immediately and groan.

“Doctor Shephard? Doctor Shephard can you hear me?”

“Yea,” he mumbled, not sure if it was intelligible.

“Good. I’m Officer Cortez and I just need to ask you some questions.”

He shook his head a couple of times before he realized that that was a bad idea. “No,” he groaned.

She exhaled loudly, clearly annoyed. “Doctor I understand you’re probably tired and in pain but I just have a few questions.”

“No,” he replied again, in a stronger voice.

There’s a moment of silence. He doesn’t’ know what she doing but he’s curious, just not curious enough to brave the light again.

Finally she speaks in a more sympathetic voice. “Alright. I’ll come back later.”

***

Jack has absolutely no concept of free time. If he isn’t at the hospital he’s never quite sure of what to do with himself.

His work is about the only thing in his life that ever really makes sense.  He knows it’s pathetic, but he’s come to a sort of peace with his situation.

But he can’t be in surgery all day everyday, and so every now and then he ends up with an awkward day like today, where he wanders around his house.

He picks up books he bought months ago, on some Barnes & Noble bestsellers list, that he’s still meaning to read eventually, but not today. He shoves them all back onto his bookshelves full of other books he’s collected but never read.

When his phone rings he hopes that it’s the hospital, and then immediately feels horrible.

But not as horrible as when he realizes that it’s not surgery.

“Hello.”

“Doctor Shephard?”

It’s a woman’s voice. It sounds familiar, but he can’t quite place it.

“That’s me. Who’s this?”

He shoves a hand into his pocket and feels like a nervous school boy for a second, but has no idea why.

“This is Officer Cortez. We talked briefly-”

“After I got hit with a bedpan!”

He can feel the blush coming to his cheeks, but then she laughs and he smiles.

“Yea. I came back to talk to you but you’d already left.”

“I know. Sorry, I just wanted to sleep in my own bed.”

“Got it, but I do still need to talk to you.”

“Oh yea sure. Should I come see you?”

***

When he walks into the coffee shop where she’s offered to meet because it’s on her beat, he looks around for her for a few seconds before he remembers that he never saw her, and has no idea what she looks like.

When none of the cops call him over, he picks a table near the window and orders a coffee.

Some people don’t do well with silence or too much personal reflection. Jack is absolutely one of those people, so when she drops her notepad on the table, he jerks toward her in surprise.

She slides into the booth across from him, her sunglasses still on her face.

The waitress shows up to take her order before either of them can properly introduce themselves. She orders a black coffee with a bright smile. He can only just see the corner of her mouth turn up and a flash of teeth. He tilts his head a bit to the side to try and get a better view.

When she turns back to him, he drops his eyes, feeling foolish.

“Dr. Shephard,” she says and he feels a tremor up his spine.

“Officer Cortez,” he replies.

She pulls off her glasses and a piece of hair falls into her face. She tucks it behind her ear. It’s not sexy, just practical, but still he blinks awkwardly, his head beginning to throb lightly.

“So, do you remember what happened,” she says, flipping her notepad open.

“Not really. I was giving a little girl some stitches, there was some yelling, I turned around and next thing you know I was waking up on a gurney.”

She nods, and bites her lip to stop from smiling.

“You can laugh,” he says. “It’s pretty pathetic.

She looks up at him and smiles and that same piece of hair falls from behind her ear.

“So you don’t know who threw the bedpan?”

“No, but one of the nurses should.”

“Yea, I just have to ask.”

He nods. She takes a sip of her coffee.

There’s a loud crash outside, two cars colliding in the intersection. The other police officers in the shop rush out to see what happens, but Officer Cortez doesn’t move. She takes another sip of her coffee instead.

“Shouldn’t you go out there?”

The edges of her mouth twitch, but she doesn’t fully smile. “Too many cooks,” she says.

He’s sure she’s forgotten that he’s there. Her eyes are closed, the clouds have shifted and the sun is shining directly through the window, hitting her face.

He thinks of calling her name, but he watches her instead; the small beads of sweat on her neck, the flush of her skin. He realizes that she looks about as exhausted as he feels.

Finally, she opens her eyes again and catches him watching her. “You staring like a stalker, Doc.” There’s that tremor up his spine again.

He smiles and ducks his head. “No, I was just thinking that you look tired.”

He lips purse. “I’m fine.”

“How are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?”

“Mind your business, Doc.” She closes her book and is about to slip from the booth and leave when he reaches out to grasp her hand.

“Ana Lucia.”


End file.
